


The good wood

by Buggirl



Series: May to September [12]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Vaginal Sex, just figuring things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggirl/pseuds/Buggirl
Summary: Prompt from tumblr - 'I love you - said too quick and mumbled into a scarf'





	

**Author's Note:**

> Coming to a close on my long fic and I'm having a lot of feelings about these two, there's a lot of one shots I've never published here and I may pull out a few to share.

It’s weird this feeling, of being half-dressed and fucking your brains out with someone new, but she feels alive again for the first time since she left the vault.

He’s younger, sure, but he’s got something that turns her on. It comes as a surprise when he tells her he was married once, but that's all she really knows about him. He makes _her_ feel younger, as if she’s nineteen again. 

Ugh, nineteen.

_Derek._

He had a mole on his neck and he always came first.

 _Timothy_.

He liked to give her hickeys even when she said no.

 _David_.

Plain horrid and awful. Unresolved mother issues. Worst boyfriend of her pre-war life. She shudders.

This though. It’s different, she’s surprised how gentle he is. He speaks to her, just as Nate did, and they have an easy chemistry without the bullshit, and they’ve been frank from the start about what this is and what it isn’t. Mutual benefit. Convenient spooning. She’s the boss. They can stop at any time, no questions asked.

Technically, by pre-war definition the power in the dynamic is all hers, but sometimes, she’s not sure that’s the case.

They take every precaution - she discovers an additional chem to take with a stimpak that can act as a contraceptive, it lasts for a month. They use Jimmy Hats when they can get them and when they can’t, he never comes inside her. He laughs and jokes about that, but never says why. She certainly hasn’t had this much sex, not since she was first married. She knows that part of it is an escape, but for the moment, she needs this. She needs the intimacy of sex even though it’s just ‘scratching an itch without complications’. To feel something-- anything, other than the pain of this godforsaken Wasteland is all that’s she’s looking for. He gives it to her in spades.

There’s a background hum of a defence turret and she’s still wearing her socks, shirt and jacket but her boots and pants sit haphazardly in a dark corner. He’s lifted her onto a newly put together set of drawers, not yet finished. The wood hits her ass hard as he thrusts into her and the noise that the furniture makes as it hits the wall is a cadenced thud. She grabs the collar of his duster and muffles a moan into his neck. She rarely orgasms without her clit being stimulated, but she feels it building without his hands or mouth going anywhere near her. Maybe it’s the position she’s in, awkward though it is; she doesn’t want him to stop.

When she comes, she mumbles a fast and incoherent ‘I love you’ into his scarf. The words dampened by the material, the gentle thud of wood on wood and by the noise of the turret behind the wall where they’re fucking. She hopes that he didn’t hear it, that he won’t respond to it. Relief washes over her when he doesn’t stop, his pace never alters and he goes on unawares to his last few thrusts before he too is spent. She remains clutching his duster and he gently lifts her down from the drawers, pulls her face to his and kisses her.

When he pulls back, he’s got a huge damn smile on his face and she laughs in response.

“So that’s how you build sturdy furniture?” he says.

“You get the joints right and it will last a long time.” She laughs again and rubs her hand over the wood, her face still feeling the heat of her orgasm and the warmth from his scarf. Her hand comes up to adjust his scarf in places that she messed.

He nods and tucks himself back into his pants then grabs hers from the corner and passes them to her.

“Thankyou,” she says. He tucks a stray hair behind her ear. His face is red and he pulls at his collar.

“You’re very welcome, Boss.” He tips his hat and leaves the room.

Within minutes, she smells cigarette smoke filtering in from the door. She dresses, heaves a heavy sigh, thankful he didn’t hear, or that he didn’t ask.

She closes her eyes and for the briefest of moments, wishes otherwise.


End file.
